


Alive and Well, Not Starving and Dead

by MxPseudonym



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But with caring undertones, Mycroft being strong armed into eating, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26376934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxPseudonym/pseuds/MxPseudonym
Summary: Mycroft’s PA is haunted by his empty fridge, so they’re taking it into their own hands to fix it.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Alive and Well, Not Starving and Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a Tumblr request and was so fun to write!

18 months. That’s how long “Anthea” said it would take before you felt somewhat accustomed to being the personal assistant to Mycroft Holmes. You were a fast learner, so you hoped it would help with the learning curve. While it did considerably, it did take about that long for you to feel like you weren’t just stumbling along. **  
**

You thought about your job as you pulled up to Mycroft’s home. You were allowed into the house, but this was the first time there had ever been a need. Or maybe the first time Mycroft trusted you to do it. You entered with the key card and passcode he gave you and tried not to stumble while carrying both a newly laundered tuxedo and a boutonniere for the gala that night. Not feeling comfortable going too much farther than the foyer, you hung the suit on one of the many hooks as your employer’s footfalls began approaching.

“I wasn’t expecting you, sir,” you said, turning when he entered. 

Though he was fully clothed, the lack of a jacket put his waistcoat and figure on display, something you rarely saw. You resisted the urge to look away as the heat rose to your face.

“Yes, I see,” he said while walking over to inspect the goods. Mycroft unzipped the laundry bag halfway and hummed. It was one of his preferred suits. 

“Even if you don’t enjoy tonight’s program, you’ll at least feel good,” you told him. He didn’t pay you to be optimistic, and it showed on his face when he looked you over. But you figured it helped anyway. 

“Excellent point.”

“Thank you, Sir. Do you have a refrigerator I can store this in for you?” You held up the fresh carnation, white and dewy in its plastic box. 

“A perfect match to the foundation’s crest, very good y/n,” he applauded you. He must have been in high spirits or tipsy, but you took the compliment and allowed yourself to be shown to the central kitchen. The contents of the fridge gave you pause. That is, the lack of anything at all other than a few water bottles and the flower box you placed on the center shelf in the chilly vessel was shocking. Out of curiosity, you opened the freezer as well. Nothing. 

“Sir, would you like me to arrange for someone to do your shopping,” you asked. You knew he’d say “no.” This wasn’t an “I haven’t been shopping in three weeks” fridge. This was an “I don’t consume food” fridge.

“That’s not necessary, y/n. I’m hardly home, and I never cook when I am,” Mycroft said, followed by a comment about food slowing down the brain. You had to take that as sarcasm because you knew it wasn’t correct, and you knew Mycroft told jokes that went right over people’s heads.

“Okay, sir." 

Of all the things that would take over your mind for the next week and the week after, you hadn’t expected Mycroft’s glossy, white, vacant fridge haunting your dreams. But alas, as you were making your list on grocery day, you turned to your dog, Elio. 

"Alright, darling, I’ll just get twice as much, yeah?” You took the unenthused tail wag as a yes. 

Two roasted chickens, sheets of potatoes, and bunches of asparagus later, you were packing up dinner servings into your newly purchased Tupperware.

“Is this a bad idea,” you asked yourself as you continued to write labels for each of them. A list of ingredients and directions on best heating it up. You also put a makeshift seal on each container and noted to proceed with caution if broken. 

“It may seem like much, but the man is precious cargo,” you told Elio, who, at this point, was very agreeable from all of the chicken scraps you’d “dropped.” To finish it off, you wrote a note. 

_Dear Sir,_

_Please eat something. Along with this note, this envelope contains a recent study on the benefits of food on the mind. It is peer-reviewed by trustworthy scientists, don’t worry. Though your mind is superior, I think we can both agree that the only way I’ll stay gainfully employed is if you are alive and well, and not starving and dead._

_James will bring back my tupperware at the end of the week. I will ask you how you enjoyed it. This is a test._

_Please enjoy the chicken._

_Thank you,_

_Y/N_

James, the driver, only had to be bribed with a fresh scone for him to let you drop off the meals. Your plan worked perfectly. 

Towards the end of the week, you’d nearly forgotten you’d done it. Neither of you mentioned it in the slightest. It was Friday morning when he stopped you from leaving your morning briefing like usual. 

“Yes, sir?”

“The chicken was quite good,” he said. It was the slightest praise, but it made you feel like walking on air.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler: A full story around this concept is coming this month/beginning of October 2020.


End file.
